


Pina Colada

by labrynthine



Category: South Park
Genre: Cartman takes care of Wendy, F/M, High School, Implied Sexual Content, In which Bebe throws a party, Language, Wendy gets drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labrynthine/pseuds/labrynthine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Wendy Testaburger drinks to let loose and the only person to take care of her is Eric Cartman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pina Colada

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first South Park fanfiction, and honestly, the first piece of writing I've seriously worked on in a long time. I'm new to posting on ao3, so here we go.

I.

Eric Cartman wasn’t surprised to hear “Material Girl” blasting as he squeezed through a never-ending crowd of people—some he recognized and some he did not. It was Bebe’s party at Token’s house, because the rich bastard was weak when it came to the blonde, or any girl who glanced his way for more than a few seconds. He’d lost Kenny about a minute after walking in, and he was certain that Stan and Kyle had snuck off to one of the many bedrooms the house possessed.

The two had come out last May towards the end of their junior year. Stan and Wendy had broken up for the umpteenth time, and that time there was a legitimate reason. He didn’t remember much of her reaction except that he’d had a glance of her sobbing drunk on Bebe’s shoulder several weeks after at some party they’d both happened to be at.

He finally reached the kitchen, and thank god too because he could hear “It’s Raining Men” muffled from the living room. Bebe had a long list of ex-boyfriends, and it was nearly impossible to count how many guys she’d gone to bed with. Kenny was a repeat offender. Cartman looked up and smirked, noticing who else was in the room.

“’Sup ho,” he greeted with a low whistle. Wendy Testaburger spun on her heel away from the sink where she’d been peering out of the kitchen window and immediately, her blue eyes were set in a harsh glare. “Turn anymore guys homo?”

He’d be fucking blind if he said that Wendy Testaburger hadn’t gotten pretty over the years, because oh, she _had_. She still had those dumb bangs that he couldn’t help but secretly marvel over, and she had kept her hair long that it curled slightly at the ends. The raven-haired girl was petite, but he was the first to notice out of all the guys in their grade that she had blossomed.

“Fuck off, fatass.” Her voice was rough and wobbly, almost as if she’d been crying. The boy scowled slightly. He was, in fact, quite the opposite. He’d lost a lot of his pudge in middle school. If he hadn’t joined their high school’s hockey team, he probably wouldn’t looked as good as he did.

“Aye, watch it, hippie bitch,” he growled. She sniffled slightly and wiped her eye with her palm and immediately cursed when she saw the smeared mascara on her hand. “What’s up with you, anyway?” She guffawed and shoved past him. He barely heard what she said before she disappeared in the cramped and smoky room.

“Why do _you_ even care?”

 

Cartman splashed water on his face before looking up to scowl at his reflection. There was a couple banging on the door and had been ever since he entered the tiny bathroom a few minutes ago. He pulled the door open roughly, frightening the couple on the other side.

“There are plenty of other bathrooms in his damned mansion, assholes.” He growled, running a hand through his honeyed hair, pushing the sweaty strands from his eyes.

“We tried them,” the girl pouted, clinging to her man with wobbly legs. “You’re not even with anyone Cartman. You have no excuse to be in there so long.”

“Maybe I was taking a shit, bitch,” he shot back. The girl bit her lip and glanced inside the bathroom tentatively. It was a lie, and he knew it. “For a rich bastard, he has the tiniest fucking bathrooms.” He left them there, cautious to enter the bathroom in case the bigger boy didn’t flush the toilet to spite anyone else who came.

Cartman had actually been hiding out in the bathroom and scrolling through social media. It was a good spot to cool off even though he hadn’t done any drinking or dancing. It wasn’t fun to do alone. Ever since Kyle and Stan got together, it was mostly him and Kenny, and as much as he hated to admit it, the poor boy had become his best friend. Except at parties, of course, when he was with several girls and drinking himself dead.

He was going to leave.

There was no point in staying at this lame ass party where he was just going to be on his phone the entire time. The only person worth talking to was probably off dancing with some random boy, and he cringed at the thought of it. He’d had a crush on Wendy fucking Testaburger since elementary school, and he hated it and the way she made him feel. With a huff, he zipped up his jacket.

Outside, the air was cool, better than the humid, hormone-filled air within the Black family mansion. The boys had ridden over in Cartman’s old beat up white Toyota, and he didn’t care at this point. Stan and Kyle could find a way to get home on their own. Kenny would probably be dead by the end of the night, if not by drinking, by the numerous girls who would catch him with another and another. With a snort, he put his key in his car and unlocked it.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going?”

He looked up at the slurred words. There, the object of his affections, stood with her hands on her hips and a sloppy grin on her face. Her raven hair had been pulled up in an equally sloppy bun, showing the curve of her pale neck. She seemed to have ditched the navy cardigan that she was wearing during their encounter in the kitchen. Now, he could see that the black button-up shirt barely had any sleeves and her ivory circle skirt was way too short. Suddenly, he was glad he hadn’t seen her with other guys in that outfit or he would be taking out every single one who laid a finger on her.

“I’m going home,” he stated calmly, hazel eyes quickly avoiding her pining gaze. Cartman made no move to enter his car and drive off, leaving her in the smoke from his car like he so desperately wanted to do.

“Why?” Her voice was small and slightly giggly. Wendy’s feet were clumsy as she walked up to the driver’s side of the car. She smelled like a mixture of the cologne and perfume from all the kids inside and alcohol. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket to check the time. If he left now, he would be able to get enough playtime in before trying to get enough sleep so he could make breakfast for his mom in the morning.

“I have video games at home with my name on them.”

“Come back inside,” she commanded with a pout, stamping her foot. He closed his eyes and secretly wished he hadn’t seen such an attractive thing. “It’s cold so hurry up, Eric.” His eyes fluttered open at her using his first name. At the sight of her hugging herself, he unzipped his jacket to drape over her shoulders.

“I’m Eric fucking Cartman, baby,” he announced with a confident smirk. She lifted an arm to sniff the sleeve of his jacket. They were almost touching at this point, and he wasn’t sure when she had moved closer or if he had been the culprit. “No one tells me what to do.”

With a focused look crossing her face, she lifted her hand. She relaxed and giggled, playing with the hair behind his ear. His hair was getting long enough to curl a bit at his earlobe. She was drunk. Cartman held his breath and watched her fascinated look as she curled his hair around a small, slender finger. She wouldn’t remember this in the morning. Well, at least he hoped so.

“God, I’m so glad you grew your hair back out,” he murmured in a voice he almost didn’t recognize. It was now or never. He reached out to place his hands on her cheeks. They were warm, and she gave him a drunken gentle smile. When she had claimed to be Wendyll, he had thought she clipped her hair back under her beret. Instead, she had let Bebe chop it off. He would tease her about the choppy look, and a week later she had gotten it fixed by a stylist.

“Are you gonna kiss me?” He froze. The question was so innocent as she fluttered her eyelashes and—fuck, where the hell had she learned how to do that? His knees wobbled slightly, and she smirked as if she knew. Maybe she did.

“Oh, God. Fuck, Wendy, you _know_ I want to,” he whined, cursing himself for loving the hippie too much to take advantage of her in her drunken stupor. “You’re drunk, babe.”

“You’re drunk!” She cried out with a giggle, reaching up to poke at the tip of his nose. What had Eric Cartman become to be reduced to a mere pile of mush because of a girl? When her giggles subsided, she yawned into the sleeve of his jacket.

“Let me take you home,” he grumbled with a sigh, walking her to the passenger seat and helping her get in. She didn’t fight him, especially when he leaned over her to buckle her in. “Where’s your purse and sweater?”

“Kyle has them.”

“Alright, I’ll be back, alright?” He leaned out and made move to shut the door but she shrieked out before he could.

“Don’t leave me alone out here!” She pouted, pressing her palms to her pink cheeks. She was a needy drunk, and Cartman _loved_ it.

“I’ll be back, babe,” he whispered again, leaning in to press a small, but hesitant kiss to her forehead. She nodded obediently. “Here, finish this level for me.” He opened a game on his phone, and she took it like a child.

 

When Cartman had found the Jew, twenty minutes had passed and part of him worried for the raven-haired girl in his car. He didn’t drink much at parties so he was nursing his drunk boyfriend in his lap on an empty couch. There next to him was Wendy’s sweater and her small brown purse.

“Sup, fatass,” Kyle greeted with a smirk, watching him reach for the girl’s things. At his words he gripped the water bottle he’d snatched from the kitchen in his hand. “Is there something you need with Wendy’s stuff?”

“I’m taking her home,” he said lamely. Stan peeked up at him with a doubtful look that the bigger boy caught. “Aye, I’m serious.” He turned with a growl. He didn’t need this right now.

“Use protection!” The sober of the two yelled with a cackle. Cartman’s affections for the girl hadn’t gone unnoticed by his friends. During a late night gaming and drinking session at his house while Liane was out for the night, he’d let it slip.

When he’d reached his car, Miss Wendy Testaburger was up and on his phone. He threw himself into the driver’s seat wordlessly, making the car shake a bit, and tossed her stuff into her lap. She whined in return and handed him his phone, taking the water bottle and gulping it before speaking.

“What took you so long?” She made no move to put her cardigan on, and instead snuggled deeper into his jacket. The boy started his driving with a grunt.

“Couldn’t find your things.”

All he heard was silence, and when he peered over at her, the girl looked like she was struggling to keep her eyes open during the ride. When they drooped, she opened them and they drooped lower again. By the time he reached her house, she looked like she was close to sleep and comfortable in his jacket. The water bottle was empty and discarded somewhere in the floorboard near her small feet.

“Wendy,” he began gently, and she harrumphed in return from the passenger seat. He nudged at her shoulder. She shook her head. “We’re at your house.”

“No,” she said loudly all of a sudden. Her eyes were wild and frantic as she looked at him. “I can’t! They think I’m at Bebe’s tonight.” The girl’s voice went soft, and she ended her sentence with a pout. A small kitten-like noise. “Can I go to yours?”

“Mine?” The word flew out of his mouth too fast for him to hide the shock. Wendy smiled and nodded excitedly like a child. Cartman sighed and put his car into drive. _This_ was not going to be fun.

It was a struggle to get the girl up the stairs quietly. She argued with him the entire way. He intended to put her in a guest room, and at the mention of it, she hissed under her breath about how she refused to be alone and wanted to be with Cartman. It took everything in him to not kiss her on the spot.

And that was why Cartman found himself sitting at his computer with headphones around his neck and a game up on his screen.

With Wendy _fucking_ Testaburger in _his_ bed.

In _his_ shirt.

On _his_ phone.

“Eric,” she whined from his bed. There the sound of glass hitting the wood, and just from that, he could tell she was drinking more water. _Good._ He ignored her then, concentrating (or at least trying to) on his game. He wasn’t supposed to have her in his bed whining his name. He wasn’t even supposed to have her in his house. “I’m sleepy. Where are you going to sleep?” He ignored her. “Hello?” Level up. “ _Eric, get over here right now._ ” And fuck her cute voice.

“What do you want, Wendy?” His voice sounded strained and tired as he stood up. God, he was so weak in front of her. Why was she even here? She was driving him crazy. There was a smirk as if she knew what she was doing to the poor boy, and she snuggled deeper under his comforter. Her small hand patted a spot next to her, and he sat obediently.

“Are you sleeping in here?” There was a spark in her eye that he couldn’t place, and there was music playing from a stereo that he had hoped would lull the girl to sleep. Obviously, it hadn’t. That _fucking_ pina colada song suddenly came on, and he made move to turn it off and just leave the room, ignoring her protests. Before he could get on his feet, there was a pull from the bed and his lips were on hers.

II.

Eric Cartman was never nervous. Eric Cartman was never fidgety over anything. He was never weak (except for a drunk Wendy Testaburger.) But there he was, at Stark’s Pond, sitting next to Kenny with his face in his hands. The boy in the orange parka had a cigarette behind his ear while he leaned forward on his knees.

“So you took advantage of Wendy,” the boy concluded with a smirk. “Isn’t that rape?”

“Fuck you, Kenny.” Cartman stood up, throwing his hands up with a frustrated growl. “She seemed partly fucking sober during the whole thing. I gave her water the whole night. She seemed fine. She even left a note in the morning before she left.” Said note was burning a hole in his pocket, and his hand itched to read her neat flowery handwriting over and over again.

“Dear Cartman,” Kenny began in a high voice meant to mimic Wendy. The bigger boy glared at him, earning him a smirk in response. “Thanks for taking care of me last night. You’re a good person when you want to be. Love, Wendy.”

“You know, she called me Eric last night?”

“Huh?”

“When we fucked,” Cartman said, looking down at his hands. Hands that ran over her soft and milky skin. Before he left his house, he could still smell her scent in his room. There were butterflies in his stomach, and suddenly, he could feel her lips on his shoulders and chest all over again. “She called me Eric.”

“You’ve got it so bad,” the other boy cackled. Suddenly, it was cut short because Cartman threw a punch at his shoulder. He ran a hand over the sore spot with a frown. “Hey, okay, sorry. What are you going to do?”

“It was her fault,” the hockey player stated with a shrug and began walking away. Behind him Kenny jumped up to follow. “I plan on treating her like it was.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what you’re _not_ supposed to do to girls you love.” He pulled the cigarette out from behind his ear and went to light it. Cartman stopped abruptly and turned to glare at him.

“I never said I love Wendy.” Kenny gave him a knowing look.

God, he was so right though.

He _did_ have it bad.

 

The morning before first period that Monday, Cartman avoided Wendy. Hell, if things went as planned, that’s what would be happening for the rest of the day. He wouldn’t have to be ridden with guilt and for the normally guiltless boy, it was a weird feeling. Instead of hanging out in the hallway with his friends, he sat in a stall in the bathroom, playing around on his phone.

Between first and second period, he passed Wendy and Bebe. The dark haired girl shot him a gentle smile while tucking hair behind her ear. His heart hammered in his chest, and in response, he glared at her. She stopped immediately as shock overwhelmed her, but he kept walking.

“Wait, Cartman?” Her voice echoed behind him. _Don’t turn around. Keep walking._ He refused to let those ocean eyes pull him back in. When he reached his class and sat, he could feel his phone buzzing from messages. All from _her_.

_Are you mad at me?_

_You didn’t have to run so fast._

_Eric?_

_We need to talk._

Like fucking hell they needed to talk.

 

They were fucking talking.

In the cafeteria.

In front of the entire student body.

If you could call yelling talking.

“What is your problem?” Wendy snarled, pounding her hands on his table. Kenny rolled his eyes at Cartman as if to blame him. And yeah, it kind of was his fault.

“What is _yours?_ ” Cartman fired back, standing up. She was so small, so petite, and the fact that he stood up and towered her was a slap in the face. She pressed her lips into a thin line, glaring at him. “I played babysitter for a night. I don’t _have_ to take care of you anymore. You can go now.” Her eyes went wide and cheeks went red from embarrassment, and around her people whispered.

“Are you serious?” She sputtered, shocked. “You’re seriously going to hold the fact that I drank something against me?” Hell _yeah_. “You keep telling me I need to stop being so uptight, and the fact that I wanted to drink because I’m so stressed out about life is a problem?” Wait. “Like, holy shit, Eric, we made love to that _fucking_ pina colada song.” _What?_

She seemed to suddenly remember that they weren’t alone and that they had garnered the attention of the cafeteria. There was a sheen over her eyes that had developed while yelling at him and when she finally blinked, a tear rolled down. Muttering an apology, she shoved passed him while wiping at her face, and soon, was out and away from the cafeteria.

“I can’t believe you, fatass,” Bebe huffed. She had come out of nowhere, but her glare was focused on Cartman, and Cartman, well, he was focused on the doors Wendy had stormed out of. “She’s been in love with you forever.”

“Yeah, right,” he snapped, turning back toward her with a roll of his eyes. If looks could kill, God, Cartman would be sent to hell and revived and sent to hell again and again until Bebe was satisfied. “Forever? I saw her with you crying at Clyde’s party last year after she and Stan broke up.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” Stan mumbled from the table. The bigger boy shot him a look that told him to keep his mouth shut, and he did. Bebe was silent for a moment while she thought about it, and growled. And _fuck_ , did Bebe get scary over the years.

“That’s because you kissed Heidi, you asshole!” The cafeteria was silent, and Heidi had gone several shades of red, muttering an ‘oh God’ from her seat. “Why the hell do you think they broke up in the first place? Stan liked Kyle and Wendy liked you!”

Oh shit.

_Oh shit._

III.

“The other day was the first time I’d been here since we were kids,” Cartman began sheepishly. He found her at Stark’s Pond hours later, knees pulled to her chest on the bench. The girl ignored him, continuing to stare straight ahead. “I know Kenny comes here often to smoke.”

“I know.”

“Yeah,” Silence. “Wait, how do _you_ know?”

“I’ve run into him several times on walks. I come here a lot still to clear my head. It feels a whole lot better than drinking, honestly.” Her cheeks went pink at her words. She sniffed slightly and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “He talks about you a lot.”

“Hm, sounds a little gay.”

She ignored him and pressed on, “Anyway, he told me about you guys talking here the day after the party.”

“That fucking bastard.”

“He told me you thought you took advantage of me,” she continued with a small smile. “I didn’t drink _that_ much, and I had a lot of water. But, it was fun to mess with you and pretend I did.” Wendy smirked in his direction, and God, he fell in love all over again with a girl who knew how just how to tick him off. “He also told me how hurt you were over the fact that I called you Eric during sex and Cartman in that note.” She stood up to stretch.

“Ha, yeah, right.” His face was red at this point, and she turned to face him and rolled her eyes. Her gloved hands reached out to pull at his collar and suddenly he was nose to nose with the girl of his dreams. She smelled like strawberry chapstick and flowers and cinnamon rolls. When she spoke, her voice was as soft and smooth as silk, and it took everything in him to not melt.

“I love you, Eric.”

Silence.

Blink.

“Say it back. Kenny already told me that you do so stop pussy-ing out, asshole.”

“That’s not even a word, hippie.”

And she kissed him.


End file.
